The "sounds like a you problem" Doctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twelfthsong) wrote2022-08-14 01:24 am
twelfthsong) wrote2022-08-14 01:24 am
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— I'ᴍ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ 'ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ 'ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ
— psl clara & john
modern au | coffee box
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[The Coffee Box was a blink and you miss it hole in the wall coffee and tea shop nestled in the heart of Lancashire. The usuals that frequented the establishment were devout in their love for it all for various reasons, but if you asked any of them why it always boiled down to two things: the magic of the quaint little shop and it's kooky, sometimes grumpy, but kind owner.
The magic was unexplainable. There was always just the right amount of tables and chairs open for you and whoever it was you were coming with. The shop kept odd hours, but whenever you seemed to need it the most - whether it was for a hot cup of tea to soothe a sadness, or a respite from a freak rainstorm - it was there. It wasn't just a coffee shop though; it sold other assortments of things like baked goods (but it was usually whatever the owner felt like making that day so there was no set menu) and was decorated with shelves that held books upon books of any kind of subject you could imagine.
And the owner - well he was another story. He was a former professor that had relocated to Lancashire 'against his better judgement' instead of moving home to his hometown of Glasgow. He seemed to have endless stories to tell each wonderful, a little hard to believe, but always with some kind of lesson. The music that played in the coffee shop was always an assortment as well but sometimes if patrons were lucky, he'd play some guitar himself if the mood struck. All of that was to say that some patrons did have their eye on him (even some of the younger crowd thought he was a bit of a silver fox); and while he allegedly lived alone he always sported a dull, brushed gold ring on his wedding finger and managed to dodge any questions about his marital status.
The bell from above the door of the Coffee Box rang on that particular rainy, drizzly day, prompting him to poke his head out from around the corner calling to whoever it was that had entered the shop.]
Umbrellas in the bucket by the door or you'll clean up the mess yourself. And we just sold out of the blackberry tarts, I'm afraid. Better luck next time.
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Ellie was Clara's reason for her entire career; her mother had been the one to ecourage Clara to branch out and go where her heart took her, like a leaf in the wind. Now she's home, her mother's in the ground, and her dad's gone off the deep end, locking himself in the bedroom and refusing to talk to anyone. Before trying again, Clara needed to clear her head and try to figure out how to be the adult for her dad.
Walking in, she hears someone call out instructions and looks down at the bucket before depositing her umbrella there and hanging up her coat. Looking around, she can't help but breathe in and close her eyes, feeling like she's just wrapped herself up in a warm, familiar blanket. When she opens her eyes, she catches a head of white hair before it disappears again. ]
Allergic to blackberries, sounds like I avoided disaster.
[ She steps aside as the only other person inside heads back out into the grey day. Walking toward the counter, Clara pushes a hand through her hair, trying not to look as tired as she feels. ]
Just a couple coffees, please.
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He bustles over to the counter, quickly waking up the tablet to punch in her order.]
Black? Do you need cream, sugar, anything else?
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Actually, don't fill the to-go order yet. I'll take a coffee here, with cream and two sugars. And whatever your favorite baked good is out of what's left.
[ Clara never chooses things for herself the first time she goes anywhere. She likes to know what other people enjoy and can't turn it off, even at home. Tugging out her wallet, she rifles through her bills of foreign currencies before finding what she should cover everything. ]
I'll grab the other coffees when I leave.
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[And he's off again in a blur towards the display cabinet. There isn't much left with it being almost the end of the day but there's still some croissants from this morning that are fluffy and buttery, filled with an earl gray cream filling. He hands it to her on a plate along with her coffee in a mismatched cup and her request fixings.]
Decided yet?
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When she leaves the shop before a day off, she accidentally leaves behind her journal. She doesn't get a chance to realize it when she gets home because like always, she tries to do something, anything to make her dad engage with her. She must push too far because he follows her to the living room when she storms out of his bedroom.
They shout at each other, she tells him she's been drowning under the responsibility of trying to take care of her nan who's started to call Clara Ellie. He yells back at her that she has no idea what it's like to be a widow. And then it's like he goes for the throat and shouts that he can't even stand to look at her because she looks too much like her mother. That it would be better if Clara just took off again and left them alone. ]
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He was already flexible with her schedule; she was allowed to come in when she liked but he had set out rough hours so that she could plan her own day accordingly. So when she started to ask for days off in order to make a little more side cash taking photos, he’d of course let her. What he hadn’t realized was that the days that she wasn’t there, he missed her presence.
One of those days he realized too late as she disappeared down the street that she had left behind her journal. He’d never read it - that would be an invasion of privacy - but he figured if she wasn’t coming around for several days he might as well return it. After closing up the shop for the day he heads towards her dad’s home pulling up just in time to the door to hear a man’s voice - he assumes it’s her dad’s - shouting. His voice is muffled from the other side of the door, but then he hears the unmistakeable sound of Clara shouting right back. This isn’t his business.
He considers leaving the journal in the mail slot or maybe just texting her and letting her know to drop by the shop to pick her journal whenever it’s best for her - but then the door opens and he’s face to face with her.]
…Evening.
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What are you doing here? [ And how much did he overhear, she wonders. ]
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You left your journal in the shop. Thought you’d want it since you were out the next couple of days.
[He wants to ask if she’s fine but she’s crying and that would be a stupid question anyway.]
Did you want to go for a walk?
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[ She reaches out for the journal and doesn't even question if he read any of it or not. But she wipes at her eyes and lets out a breath when he asks if she wants to go for a walk. ]
Yeah. I just...I can't be here right now.
[ She waits until they've been walking for a while to finally ask. ]
Did you hear any of that?
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It isn't a secret, their relationship, but no one asks, and they're always professional at the shop - other than blazing eyes at one another from across a room. It's how River discovers the relationship, prodding her ex until he finally gives in. Which is what leads to a double date; Clara and John, River and Artie, her boyfriend of a few months now.
There weren't any nerves on Clara's part, not at first. Generally, she's confident and self-assured. But when she sees the way John and River are around one another for an extended period of time, she can't help but feel a spark of jealousy. For his part, Artie doesn't look bothered, but Clara can only think of Dani blindsiding her. John and River's casual touches, the smaller age gap, the way he still hasn't taken off his ring, and the way they linger goodbye in a hug all combine to make Clara feel awkward by the end of the night.
She's holding his hand as they walk back to his flat above the shop, but she's quiet, lost in her own thoughts, trying to figure out if she's more insecure than she realized. ]
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The age thing becomes a moot point quite quickly. Clara, as she often reminds him, doesn't care, and he falls into an easy enough routine with her that it fades to the back of his mind. He doesn't even really mind when River gives him some not so gentle teasing about how she's proud he's seemingly followed in his footsteps. And maybe it's because of the common ground that he agrees to a double date; Clara being there is enough for him to stomach being around Artie who is cheerful and chatty as always.
By the end of the night he thinks it's gone quite well - but the silence between them on their walk home suggests otherwise.]
Was the food that bad?
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No, it was great, I love that restaurant. River's nice. Really nice, and Artie is...high energy but so kind. [ She lets out a quiet laugh but looks back out at the street. ]
You and River are still so close, I might have some of her lipstick on my lips. [ Because River's 'hello, sweetie' and her goodbye had both included kisses that were familiar. Not intimate, just...in space that Clara's claimed. ]
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In hindsight he should have realized that Clara might feel similarly to how he felt about Artie and River except it would be about how he and River still interacted.]
Is that what's bothering you?
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[ Clara looks up at John, looking mostly embarrassed. ] Please don't say anything to her, I hate how I sound right now.
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I would too. As long as you’ll have a daft, old man.
[ And he doesn’t object to River and Artie there either. They had become an integral part of their lives since they had gotten together — something he didn’t think that he’d ever admit. Well perhaps more so about Artie than River, but that was besides the point. Clara had agreed to marry him and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. ]
Serious question. [ As such he tries to arrange his face in a somewhat serious expression. ] Are we keeping our own last names? Because Smith is a little bland if I’m being honest.
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John Oswald does have a nice ring to it. Mr. and Mrs. Clara Oswald. [ She laughs again, finding it bubbling out of her now in sheer happiness. ]
I'll make you mine. Every day forever, I'll show you you're mine.
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[ He peppers her with more happy kisses – he's not that hungry anymore. ]
And I'll make you mine forever.
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Take me home, future Mr. Oswald. I'd like to show you exactly how I feel about this.
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[ There's a joyful laugh from the bedroom as he sets about hanging up some of their nicer clothing even if it might be a moot point once they start out on their road trip. ]
Put it on the list of flat improvements. I'm sure we could make it work.
[ Most of the improvements he'd done on his flat and in the Coffee Box had been all of his handywork but there were some things like plumbing and wiring that he had learned from an early age not to trust. He was arrogant but he wasn't stupid.
He turns around to join her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing a kiss to the side of her cheek. ]
Can you believe we're here?
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No, only because you keep surprising me with places we haven't been before, places I haven't thought of.
[ She turns to face him, hands resting against his chest. She's so close that she has to look up to see his eyes. ]
And I can't wait to see what you planned, specifically, for us to do. [ She can't wait to see what he thought she'd like - though he knows her so well, she's not surprised he was sure enough to go for it. ]
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[ The country had been on his travel list as long as he could remember. ]
Well, what are we waiting for? [ He bends down to press a kiss first to her forehead before he kisses her lips. ] Get your bathing suit. We've got an appointment at the spa and it's a bit of a drive.
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She's singing along to Fleetwood Mac when they're close to the spa; they've shuffled through all sorts of genres and decades and she finally turns down the music when he needs to concentrate. ]
I'll help you look, what side of the road?
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We're exiting somewhere off on the right. It shouldn't be hard to spot though - not much out here except scenery and road.
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